


It's over, we're still alive... that's really all we can ask for

by 1000lux



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Conversation, Depression, Emotional Trauma, First Kiss, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hurt feelings, M/M, Post season finale, References to Torture, Sexual Tension, Uppsala, at some point, basically they hurt each other, but he's also having a hard time, but it'll get better, going back to England, heahmund and ivar talk about lagertha, heahmund is mean, it's not ivar who tortures heahmund, ivar finds heahmund after the battle, ivar gets heahmund back, major character death is neither ivar nor heahmund, mindgames, post 5.10, sad ivar, set after 5.1 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:02:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13506885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000lux/pseuds/1000lux
Summary: And there already the warriors of the other side came walking. Like a large wave, sweeping across the ground. Heahmund knew who was with them. He just waited. Stood there. Arms outstreched, sword loosely dangling from one hand. Smiling wrily at what was to come.





	1. And it's my whole heart, trying to reach it out

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own rights to either tv show nor characters.
> 
> I just wanted Heahmund to get back to Ivar. I want to explore how their relationship could evolve from there, given everything we've seen in canon. But I'm not quite there yet. For now that's just this.

Heahmund crouched down beside the fallen woman for a moment, closing her eyes. "Sorry, Lagertha, you will have to die alone."

He looked across the overturned, deserted battleground, that was littered with corpses as wide as the eye reached.

And there already the warriors of the other side came walking. Like a large wave, sweeping across the ground. Heahmund knew who was with them. He just waited. Stood there. Arms outstreched, sword loosely dangling from one hand. Smiling wrily at what was to come.

It had been inevitable maybe that he would see him again, one way or the other. Heahmund wouldn't run now, like a dog.

*

There he was. His priest. His traitor. Standing there, all calm, awaiting judgement. The man who'd smiled at him across the battlefield. Acknowledged him in this. Smiling like all this was their own private joke, like no one else could actually appreciate how funny.

*

Heahmund waited. Didn't know for what exactly. He'd meant what he'd said to Lagertha. He wasn't ready to die. 

"Priest." Ivar greeted him, calm, maybe even a little melancholic.

"Ivar." Heahmund replied and to his own surprise there was some warmth in his voice.

"Take him." 

Then Ivar had already turned his horse, riding off.

*

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"I might still."

"Fair enough."

"Did you love her? Lagertha. Was she everything you desire in a woman?" Ivar asked. And some vague bitterness carried in his voice, a subtle connotation to the overt curiosity.

"Maybe." Heahmund replied, facing him steadfastly. "Do you think I did?"

"No." Ivar shook his head slowly. "I do not think you did. I do not think you care about any of us. You lied to her, just as you lied to me."

"You would be right about that."

"Suddenly you're telling the truth."

"Would you believe me if I tried telling you the same old story?" A faint smile. The same game continued. "Or maybe I am lying now."

*

"What do you expect, Ivar? What's suddenly supposed to have changed?" Heahmund asked, as they were both standing inside Kattegat. He wasn't even chained up this time. He could walk around, just as he had before when Lagertha had still been here. Knew not what this new game was, Ivar was playing. If it was still the same, if the rules had changed. If it was really both of them playing any longer.

Ivar was silent, giving the question it's due consideration. Then, pensive, a little sad, but also like a simple introspection. "I just did not want to kill you."

Now it was Heahmund's turn to pause. Too much sincerity, too unexpected. Finally, "Send me home then. Let me leave with the Frankish soldiers."

"No." Simple as that.

"No? Then what?"

"You will have to make up for the hurt you've caused me." Ivar shrugged with a smile and then walked off, slow but steady.

*

"What was so special about Lagertha? Why could you love her and not me?"

Heahmund gave a little laugh. "Ivar, I did not love her. She did exactly what you did. She spared my life and tried to manipulate me. But she was my enemy."

"But still you would kiss her and sleep with her and tell her you love her."

Heahmund looked at Ivar more closely now. "Would you have wanted for me to tell you that too?" He leaned in close, slowly. Holding Ivar's gaze like in a vice. Reached for Ivar's face and kissed him. A soft, lingering kiss. Then he let go again, his eyes once more finding Ivar's with the same unapologetic, solemn gaze, piercing and all-knowing. "Now, what good does that do anyone if I mean none of it?"

Ivar looked at him undecipherably. Then gave a sharp laugh. "Poor Lagertha." Then he reached for Heahmund's face in turn, thumb caressing his cheek. "Never do that again, priest." He slapped his cheek lightly and let go.

*

"She tried to manipulate you, but you manipulated her instead."

"Just like it was with us." Heahmund said.

"Careful, priest." Ivar smiled, wagging his finger. "You are not my favorite pet any longer."

"I wasn't your pet, Ivar. I was your idol."

Ivar laughed, throwing back his head, he slapped Heahmund on the thigh. "I did miss you. I might keep you around after all, when Harald was looking forward so much to having you crucified."

*

"Did you ever intend to fight for me at all, truly?"

"I did fight for you, Ivar. I nearly died for you."

"And then you made the same promise to someone else."

"Exactly."

"Your word means nothing then."

"My word means everything. I fought for Lagertha too. And there was a good chance I could have died for her too."

"What if I told you, you were never going to leave this place again? That you'd never see another Christian in your life. Would you care then? Would your allegiance mean anything then?"

"That's not for you to decide but for God."

"Your god is not here, priest. I am here. And if you want to live, you should start to repent."

"I don't owe you repentance."

"You owe me everything."

"Why you? Why should I not have owed her the same? She did save me too from certain death. She too took me prisoner. She loved me. Why should I owe her nothing and you everything?"

"I loved you too!" Ivar hissed, uncontrolled, words just stumbling out. "But I guess I was a fool to believe that you could care for me too. That your words were true. When you told me that I could trust you."

"But, Ivar," Heahmund said gently. "How could you have believed me? I was already compromising just by fighting for you. The only one who never lies, never cheats and never compromises is God. You want to be in life like one of your gods and you're looking for someone who is like my god. But, Ivar, you can't find any of that. We are just men. Lagertha wasn't that difficult. All she asked for in the end was a kiss and a lie. Why should I have denied her that?"

*

No more wars. No more battles. No more revenge. Nothing to distract him. Just the two of them on too close quarters. And Ivar wondered once more why he had spared the priest's life again. There's nothing to expect from him. He made that clear. No one loved him. No one chose him. Not his own blood. Certainly no one else. 

Still the game continued. And at least he had what was rightfully his, again, if nothing else. And, oh, the priest would bleed for him. Or maybe not. Ivar did not know. Did not know what he wanted any longer. Wanted him inexplicably now the way Lagertha had had him, as if that would somehow cleanse him, would make him his again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about Lagertha! I love her, truly. But for this story it just made sense. Ivar needs that closure. And the way the storyline this season was going I honestly had expected they would let her die in the finale. They didn't luckily, but still, here we go.


	2. Miles away, he's on my mind, I'm getting tired of crawling all the way

I see the moon, I see the moon  
Oh, when you're looking at the sun

I see in blue, I see in blue  
Oh, when you see everything in red

I'm not a fool, not a fool  
No, you're not fooling anyone

(Be the one - Dua Lipa)

***

Him and Harald. They were much alike. They had nothing anylonger. Nothing but a crown. Harald had lost his brother. Ivar had lost his brothers. Harald had lost his wife. Ivar, Ivar had never had anyone to begin with.

*

"What was it Lagertha told you to turn you to her side?" Ivar asked. Why he wanted to know, maybe to convince himself that at least his attempt had been more intelligent, less desperate and gullible.

"She told me that my sins where forgivable. That I could indulge in them without remorse."

"And are they?"

"They are not. And she was wrong. She did not understand Christianity, despite the monk who lived with your father. She did not understand that a few words would never wash away a belief. Did she really believe the servants of God so weak?"

"What did I tell you?" Ivar asked next.

Heahmund smiled, a short, sharp smirk. "That I could live or die. And you were right."

And that moment, that short moment, that smile, shouldn't give Ivar as much as it did. But Heahmund always made it that way, like every look between them was just shared between them. Like no one else could understand, like no one else could be part of it. And that was wrong. Had been a terrible mistake.

*

Too little to do. And it was making Heahmund stirr-crazy. He was not used to that. His life had always been in a constant state of transition. A knight with short intermissions of pretension of being a priest. The constant edge. Always going where he was needed. Here he had none of that. No one who looked up to him. Not even any longer anyone who needed his skills. He lived here among these peoples like someone who didn't belong and just happened to be there. 

Still the aftermath of the war. So many dead to grieve for. The victory had been hard-won. And now the Frankian soldiers had left again. And with them Heahmund's last chance to escape. And now he was left. As what? Ivar's pet monkey? But he wasn't even asked to dance any longer. He was a ghost of past times, roaming through the streets. Unbothered and unseen. And he's not even allowed to fight anymore. When he tried to pick up arms to go to train, he was turned away. Maybe that was Ivar's true revenge on him.

*

"What use am I to you if I can't fight?!" Heahmund asked exasperated, storming into the room where Ivar was sitting on his throne like he had no care in the world.

"You're no use to me," Ivar said with a smile. "No use at all. Maybe you can take up fishing. Or, I don't know." He shrugged. "Pray more."

*

He did not understand Ivar. Did not understand what he wanted from him. On some level the same thing Lagertha had wanted from him. I loved you too. That's what Ivar had said. It had sounded so true, so wounded. And for a moment Heahmund had felt bad. Like there had been any true allegiance. Like he did in fact owe Ivar something. What did you owe the man who'd spared your life for the second time? Who twisted and turned every thought in his mind. The truth maybe, at least.

*

He needled the priest as much as he could. Watched him in that unnatural state that went so much against his nature that it raised Ivar's hackles from looking at him.

He'd thought that was what he'd wanted. To see the priest suffer, as he'd suffered when he'd learned of his treachery. But it didn't still Ivar's hunger nor his thirst. He was still running on empty. Still fiending for something, anything. Inexplicable. For something he couldn't have. Didn't even know how to define in his head. At least, though, he told himself, unlike Lagertha he was still alive. He still had every option, every possibility. Calmed himself everyday with the knowledge that if it took his fancy, he could order the priest's death at any moment he liked. But the thought only clung to his mind like mudd and lead, slimy and clogging, suffocating. The priest's death had never been anything he wanted. Because everything the priest did always did anything but make Ivar want to kill him. Every single one of the priest's outrageous moves reeled Ivar in only deeper. Because he had never known anyone like him. No one who made Ivar laugh out loud and happy, even while he wanted to strike him down. They were not done with each other. How could they ever be done with each other? And he knew the priest had known that. Had known it even while he had been with Lagertha. That he belonged to Ivar. That he always would belong to him. Had belonged to him since he'd dared to step into Ivar's sight. Two hunters caught in each other's snares. Each willing to chew off a limb if it were to any avail.

*

Heahmund could not deal with this static. He needed to be needed. He could not just be there. And could understand now, how Ivar must have felt most of his life. Not being needed by anyone, denied any use even when he had the capabilities. That's what Ivar had turned him into. An invalid. An invalid that wasn't an invalid at all. Just like Ivar himself.

*

It's one evening when Ivar was planning another attack, this time to strike against King Harald. And when Heahmund offered assitance, he was rebuked, like a dog. 

"You're a sad, sad creature, Ivar." Heahmund burst out, deeply laced bitterness in his voice. "You can destroy and conquer all around you, it will make no one love you. It will only make people fear you more. But that's not what you want, is it?"

Ivar seemed unfazed by his words. Simply his very own trademark smile. Humoring and unhinged. "That's exactly what I want."

"Why are you so unhappy then? Why do you still look into the world so angry and dissatisfied?" Heamund could not quit. Knew this was dangerous territory. It would not do to alienate Ivar any further, if he ever wanted to have the chance to return home.

"Do you want to die, priest?"

"No. I don't." But he was past reason. Like a caged bear who did not care how he chafed himself bloody against the bars of his prison. So he continued. "But you have made your own bed by alienating everyone around you. And that's why you still keep me around."

"Why would I keep you around for that? You don't love me either."

"But I do not fear you. And I do not pity you. And I have never despised you."

"I'm not Lagertha. I don't want your lies."

"And still you took them."

"Not anymore."

"As you wish, Ivar."

*

And in his own desperation, Heahmund realised reflected how much he had truly hurt Ivar. How much Ivar was still hurting. That it wasn't just hurt pride. No, this was... this had been a true betrayal to Ivar. A betrayal from one friend to another.

But he could not think how Ivar could have expected more. How he could have made Heahmund so much more than he was. Above reproach and beyond doubt. How he could not think that Heahmund was a man who would fight with tooth and nail for his freedom.

What was Ivar doing right now? Punishing him? Punishing himself? But it could not continue indefinitely.

But he had fought for Ivar. He had fought for him after all. When he'd been on that battlefield. He hadn't been fighting for God or for a chance to live another day. He had fought for Ivar. And that was a disturbing thought.

'The moon changes her mind, cheats on them, goes with someone else.'

'I want to believe in you.'

Yes, Ivar wanted to believe so very much. Even now. Still. It was painful to watch. Heahmund had not owed Ivar any kind of allegiance. But he had never truly turned against him either. What he had said, had been true, he had fought for Lagertha as he'd fought for Ivar. Because in that moment it was his only opportunity. But he'd known that Lagertha would die, just as he'd know that Ivar would live.

As he'd known, that this damnable, confusing, contradictory part of his journey hadn't been over yet. The nagging and twisting feeling in his head. That he would not get away this easy. That he had had one chance and one chance only to get away, when Ivar had offered him that knife. He could have denied him then. Chosen God and steered clear of all this, but he chose life, chose Ivar. So God had said, alright, this is your path now. He would have to see where it led him, for how long he'd have to walk it and if there was ever a crossroad again.

*

"I do not despise you, Ivar. And I do not hate you. I wasn't turning against you by fighting for her. I saw what she was trying to do and I gave her what she was looking for. It was easy. I barely knew her."

"You didn't know me."

"I do and you know me. Knowing someone is not knowing them. You'd know that if you'd read the bible."

"Get to know me then." Ivar said, sinister challenge in his voice.

"Is that what you want really, then?" Heahmund asked, no taunt in his voice, only bemused question, one finger faintly tracing Ivar's lips. "For me to touch you like I touched her?"

"I want everything you have, priest." Ivar replied. "I want your undying allegiance. I want you to want to belong to me. I want you to stay of your own choosing. Nothing less."

"You will never have that."

"Yes. But still you belong to me. And neither of us can change that again. I don't have the power."

*

"Unlace my boots for me, priest." Ivar said, from up on his throne.

And he watched as the priest stoically walked towards him, only a small twitch in his face revealing his discontent. And he kneeled in front of him and peeled the boot off his foot. One hand on his calf, almost touching the inside of his knee.

And he let the boot drop to the ground and gave Ivar a sour smile. And Ivar was reminded of that time when he'd given Heahmund his horse, that short moment after they'd bowed to each other, when Heahmund had bared his teeth at him, in that one feral smile. Possessive and dangerous. Like Ivar was his prey. Ivar wanted that again. Wanted to reach out and press the priest's face against his body. But he would have never dared. Didn't dare. That was the sad truth. 

*

"Let me fight again." Heahmund urged. "Let me at least train!"

"What for?" Ivar asked. "So your prowess can be beneficial to someone else? Maybe King Harald next? Will you also sleep with him?"

Heahmund let out a snort. "Oh, you are bitter."

"Am I?" Ivar asked. "It's a logical assumption." He shrugged. "You're a whore."

*

The priest's eyes were on him. All during the feast. Always watching, always regarding and passing unspoken judgement. Standing there somewhat detached, leaning against a wall. Observing but not partaking. Watching Ivar's celebration. Watching his glory and fame. Watching how people hailed him.

And afterwards Heahmund walked over to him and spoke.

"Oh, poor Ivar. I feel sorry for you."

And the joy and elation over the celebration went out of Ivar. The feeling of having achieved something. "Why do you think you can insult me like this and live?"

"Because if you killed me, you'd be truly alone."

*

Oh, Ivar brought out the worst in him. Always had. And now, by confining Heahmund in the worst way possible. He'd made him bitter and vicious. Striking at Ivar in the only way left for him. With the means Ivar himself had given him.

And it gave him back some resemblance of control. Some modicum of victory. But the taste it left was stale.

The words in itself had been true. He felt sorry for Ivar. How could he not, when he latched onto him so desperately still, after everything that had went down between them. And there was nothing Heahmund could give him. Nothing he would have been willing to give any longer. Not when there seemed to be a permanent itch under his skin. Slowly driving him insane. A feeling of dying of sickness in your bed, without ever really dying. Ivar had thought out his punishment expertly, as Heahmund had thought out his. They just knew each other too well. You should never show so much of yourself to any enemy. Neither of them should have done that.

*

He circled Ivar and saw the uncertainty in his eyes. How Heahmund's behavior took him off guard and he did not know what the next move would be.

"You called me a whore." Heahmund said. "But what you really meant was, I'm a whore for anyone but you."

Ivar actually spluttered at that. Caught himself. A sneer, snide and cruel. "Oh, you'd be it for me too. If only I'd ask nicely enough. Like Lagertha did. Or maybe I wouldn't even have to ask that nicely."

Heahmund looked at him, leaned in closer. A finger brushing away a strand that had escaped Ivar's braids. And he saw a small jerk go through him, so startled by that simple touch. A cruel smile passed Heahmund's face. "Hmmm, what's this dare? What's this dare supposed to be? Like you would ever let me touch you, Ivar. You're far too proud. Too proud and too scared."

"Maybe it's you who wants that." Ivar replied, eyes dark. A forced, short smirk. "Otherwise why would you try to goad me like this."

"Another mindgame, Ivar? Really? You're putting in a lot of effort." Then, callously, "If you want me to fuck you, you should have just said so. I can do that for you."

"Do it then." Ivar replied, fiercely. "Let's see if you're good for anything at all."

*

Ivar felt dirty and disgusted afterwards. Why did he ask for this? The priest had been right. Of what use was this if it meant nothing? Ivar wasn't looking for a body to fuck or be fucked. He was looking for someone to love him. And the priest would not be it. He did not just promise his favors. He gave them. To anyone. And ere you realised he had shifted again and was someone else and someone else's. And he would be Ivar's too as long as it suited him. But it meant nothing.

And Ivar cried, alone in his rooms. Cried desperate and angry tears. Because nothing was the way he'd imagined it. Nothing was the way he had wanted it to be.

He realised now with striking clarity. That it was love. Not trust. Not respect. What he was feeling for the priest. He was exactly the same pathetic fool as Lagertha. Not one bit better.

*

Such a sad boy. Ivar. Such a conflicted creature. So struck with burden, for crimes he seemed to be set to commit now.

'I want to be around people who want to win. What happens afterwards, who cares?'

But that was not true. Had it ever been true? Had Ivar ever believed it himself?

Heahmund had realised that the moment he'd touched him. It had been a mistake. Another step in the tug-of-war between them. And it had been cruel to do that. Even if Ivar had asked for it. To give Ivar what he had asked for and at the same time withhold what he truly wanted and asked for in so many words that meant something entirely else.

*

The priest at least still watched him with the same eyes. Did not look down on him for his folly. And that was something. Not much. But it made it possible for Ivar to face him at all. To move on from this. The priest acted like nothing had happened. And maybe nothing had happened. Nothing of any importance.

*

Ivar didn't want to be alone anymore. Didn't want to have to beg for scraps of the table. The table that everyone but him seemed to be feasting on.

*

Ivar started courting the slave girl who he'd freed back then. She only too readily became his consort. And she still looked at Ivar like he was special.

And it was good for a little while. She was clean, she was beyond reproach. Or, maybe, maybe she'd lied to him back then, to save her life. Maybe she was doing it now to be queen one day. But if she was, she was a greater actress than any of the women he'd known before. As good an actor as someone Ivar knew. As good an actor as Heahmund had been. He had asked him. He had asked Heahmund for no more lies. So maybe it was his own fault. Maybe he should have asked what Lagertha had asked for. Not the callous and cold touch it had been.

But it hurt. It hurt that he meant so little to him. Not just a little bit of affection. Ivar wouldn't have asked for much. But he had asked for much, didn't he? He'd asked for everything. And now he'd take just something.

*

"You make me sad, priest." Ivar said with a vacant smile. "I can admit that. Everytime I look at you."

*

"Where is Hvitserk?" Heahmund asked.

"I sent him away." Ivar shrugged, curling his mouth. "Back to Bjorn and Ubbe."

"Why would you do that?" Heahmund asked truly puzzled.

"He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be with my other brothers."

"You are not going to hunt down Bjorn and Ubbe?"

"What for?"

"You are kind then."

Ivar sneered. "I'm not any such thing, priest. You will see."

"You love your brothers." Heahmund said with marvel. "I once asked you if you fear them. But you do in fact love them. All of them."

"It is true." Ivar admitted freely. "But they have no love for me. Not one of them. So I must let go of them and forget about them. As I have to do with you."

*

And then one morning Ivar walked up to him, with renewed vigor and resolve.

"We're going to Uppsala, priest. We will celebrate the gods in the most glorious fashion." Ivar told him. "And there I will sacrifice you."

"So you have decided." Heahmund replied. He was not scared of death. It was around the corner at any time. Still there was a certain sentimental sadness for the things he wouldn't be able to see. The things that were yet to happen.

*

All the way to Uppsala Ivar taunted him. Always barbs thrown his way. Gleeful looks, that showed Heahmund only how deep this went for Ivar. How very little he was healed. Heahmund did not know what he was being punished for here. But, no, of course he did. He was being punished for the same thing he'd been punished for from the beginning. For not loving Ivar.

"I'm sure you regret now." Ivar said, just now, leaning down from his horse, while Heahmund walked. "I bet you wish now you could crawl back to me."

"Do you see me crawling?"

Ivar made a derisive gesture, features twisting for just a second, before he turned his horse away and rode to the front of the travel party.

*

Once they had arrived at Uppsala, Ivar mellowed. Like the impending end of his priest –and Heahmund knew exactly that that's what he was– had made him nostalgic again about the fond memories he had of him.

"Did you not for at least a moment imagine the things we could have achieved together?" Ivar asked.

"Maybe," Heahmund replied. "For a moment." How could he not have. How could he not have seen the opportunities. If he had not been captured by Lagertha. If things had gone like this for a little while longer. The two of them standing at the top of a giant army.

*

"Do you not want to celebrate with the others, Ivar?" Heahmund asked, when the other sat down beside him.

"No, I want to spend this last night with you."

Heahmund acknowledged that with a nod. They sat together in the grass, outside the actual celebration. There had never been much silence between them. Even when they didn't speak, always looks loaded with more words than were exchanged between most people when they spoke. But now in Heahmund's last night, they sat in silence. Out of words, both of them. What more could be said? A lot, much more felt like it needed to be said. They never ran out of things to discuss with each other. Even when it was like the last weeks, clothed in barbs and snide remarks. But that had always been the way they talked best, hadn't it? No, they never ran out of things to say. Not even now. But now, this night seemed too short, where to start, why even bother at all? When there were so many things that would never be said.

It was finally Ivar who spoke again. "Do you think we could have been friends? In another world and another time, priest?"

"I do not know." Heahmund replied. For once neither was looking at the other, the both of them staring off into the night. Beside each other, but not facing the other. "Maybe we already are. I cannot claim to have had many friends or any real friends at all in my life. Maybe we're the closest thing to friends that men like us can be. Too ambitious. Too self-absorbed. Neither of it a trait of my profession. I think you know what I'm talking about. Have you not looked down on everyone around you, as too weak, too indecisive? You do not make friends like that in life. But then, I've never been looking for that either."

"No, you wanted fame. You wanted to be a king, even if you couldn't be one."

Now they were looking at each other again.

"That is true."

"Maybe, you're right." Ivar conceded. "Maybe we are friends."

"For what it's worth, I knew you would win."

"I mourned you." Ivar said out-of-the-blue. "When they told me you had died. I did mourn you."

"Why would you do that?" Heahmund asked, truly puzzled. "I'm you're enemy. You would kill your own brothers, but you will mourn your enemy?"

"You were closer to me for a short while than my brothers ever where. For a short, fleeting, perfect moment. You lied to me. But still you understood me when no one else ever did." Ivar paused. "When I kill you tomorrow, will you still go to your heaven?"

"I think so. Unless I'm going to hell."

"Why would you?"

"Because I'm a sinner. And my ordination won't save me. If at all it will only make my sins so much more unforgivable."

"But I thought your god forgives."

"But I don't know if I repent. If I ever truly repented. If all my penance was only done in the knowledge that I would be forgiven, but never with the true intention to sin no more. I was always afraid of hell, but not enough to stop sinning. Even though I knew I could stand in front of my maker any day. Be it from battle or sickness."

"I hope you get into your heaven. I do not want you to suffer for all eternity."

"Thank you, Ivar."

*

He could have bargained for his life in that night. Could have made Ivar promises. And as smart as Ivar was, he would have fallen victim to this one blind spot of his. It could have been as simple as a kiss and a lie.

But Heahmund couldn't bring himself to do this. He owed Ivar at least that much.

*

Heahmund was praying when Ivar came in. Had been praying for all of the morning. Making peace with his maker. Trying to cleanse his soul as far as it could be cleansed. He looked up now, at Ivar. Who regarded him with the same pensive, melancholic expression he seemed to have everytime he looked at Heahmund these days.

Heahmund gave him a small smile. He did not know who he was trying to calm with it. Why he would try to tell Ivar that it was okay, he didn't know. Why he would try to console the one who was standing in front of him, his face painted with blood. But he did and it was. He understood Ivar's reasoning as he had always understood it. This was the only way it could have ever gone. Heahmund dying here, just as well as Ivar could have died at the hand of Heahmund's people in England if things had been reversed.

"Are you ready, priest?" Ivar asked.

"Yes." Heahmund nodded and got up on his feet in one swift movement, standing tall and resolute.

Ivar regarded him for a long moment. "Had you been true to me, I would have done anything for you. No one could have stood beside you." 

"But I didn't." Heahmund replied. "And it's too late now."

He followed Ivar outside. Stood there in the first row, guards at each side and watched as Ivar went back on the podium and slit a man's throat. And the blood ran down the podium and mixed with the dust to Heahmund's feet. And he watched Ivar do it again and again, his own end drawing nearer and nearer. And Heahmund felt bereft that in these last moments for once Ivar's eyes weren't on him, when they had been at any other time. For once straying everywhere in the crowd, but not to him. And in this moment Heahmund felt truly alone. 

And then Ivar came walking down the podium towards him. And their eyes met again. And Ivar raised his hand and painted Heahmund's face with blood.

"It's over." Ivar said. "We're going home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is, I'm sorry. I'm hurting myself with this story. But it's going to get better!!! Heahmund is just such a hard-headed man and this isn't going to go as fast as either of us would like. I feel so sorry for Ivar right now! T.T


	3. We couldn't be closer if we tried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably full of mistakes and not 100% what I wanted to do. But I have tendonitis right now and I don't want to wait for two months until it's better and I can write again. So I'm posting this now.
> 
> A big thank you to Maude_Blanche for letting me bounce off ideas, even though she doesn't like this story! :D Also, Ivar choosing Sherborne as the town of attack was her idea.

I was a faking alibi  
Trading the truth in for a lie, oh  
We were the essence of desire  
And we're caught in the headlights

Dangerous  
Your love is always dangerous  
And now I'm lost in us  
We're livin' in a lying trust

I don't know why  
But I guess it's got something to do with you

(Imagine Dragons - I don't know why)

***

He was still alive. It only sunk in slowly as Heahmund was walked away from the sacrifical site by Ivar, who seemed to understand that Heahmund was not capable to parry any form of verbal challenge right now, as he just walked beside him in silence, one hand lightly on Heahmund's elbow.

Heahmund had prepared to die. He hadn't wanted to. He had never been one of those who couldn't wait to leave this earth, even if he could have been sure of getting into heaven. He wanted to live. And it was entirely different to ride into battle with the knowledge that you might likely die, or to sit and wait, knowing that you would without a doubt and without any chance of escape die. He had steeled himself, had put himself into the mindset of acceptance, of it as inevitable.

And now he was alive. And he felt numb, like all his limbs were working only mechanically any longer. Like there was smoke in his mind, clouding and weighting down every thought.

His mind seemed to catch up every minute anew with the fact that he was not dead, that his heart was still beating, that still breath was going in and out of his lungs.

Ivar led him back to some room, Heahmund could not even tell, gently pushing him onto a cot. "Sleep, priest. We're leaving tomorrow at sunset."

*

"I cannot kill you. It would pain me too much."

"We should have met under different circumstances. It is a shame."

That's all the words exchanged between them. And then they're back at Kattegat.

*

It was not the twisting and coiling desperation of imagining a life without him, but it was not a good feeling either. Having the priest back here. Not having killed him and being back here with him. The raw and chafed wound ripped wide open. All of Ivar's thoughts exposed to a dying man who did not die after all. What to do with that? When Ivar could only ever destroy what scared and hurt him, but could not in this case because it was also the thing he loved most.

*

Have you never imagined what we could have been? Yes, if Ivar had had the right religion, they could have been everything. Anything. The possiblities would have been endless. Another conqueror as they were only born once a millenium. The two of them conquering the entire world. Another Alexander the Great. An empire. He imagined going back to the holy land with Ivar. Taking Jerusalem in the name of the Lord. But Ivar did not believe in God and never would.

Heahmund had never had a king like that. Aethelwulf had been neither half as smart as Ivar nor as loyal. And Ecbert, God rest his soul, had been as false as they came, and he just the same had been outsmarted by Ivar.

Still he remembered that moment when he'd been in the lost battle at York, suddenly realising he was all alone, only heathens surrounding him. And then that unexpected gesture of chivalry and respect. That wicked, amused smile, like he'd seen something unexpectedly memorable.

For a moment there it hadn't mattered who had what religion and that they were enemies. For a moment they had understood each other. Had known that they'd found an equal where they had not expected one.

And now he's back here. Kattegat. Yet again. As if unfailably the place wouldn't give him free. Or maybe it's Ivar who wouldn't do that.

*

There was a lot of time to think now. Reflection. Not something Heahmund liked to do. Putting himself on trial before his own mind. Oh, he used to go to confession, for sins committed. Did penance. But reflecting on his thoughts and motivations? He didn't do that. Had lived for most of his life secure in the knowledge that his life was just, his cause benedicted by God. And now he found himself with time enough at his hands to do just that. And it was not the picture he'd expected that formed in his mind. He wasn't half as righteous and devout as he'd deemed himself. He was exactly as proud and ambitious as Aethelwulf had accused him of. Oh, yes, he had fought well in the name if Christendom. But to further God's glory on earth or his own? He'd led a god-fearing life. For a nobleman. For a priest he'd led a life of excess. 

*

Heahmund thought of Lagertha and Ivar. Both had been in his bed. Both seemingly for the same purpose. And he wondered for the first time why he had not given in with Ivar. Why he hadn't played a role as he had with her? It would have been easy to convince Ivar. A few touches and soft words. Just touching him that one time like he meant it. That would have been enough. And he would have had power. 

Why did Ivar so rub him the wrong way? When Lagertha had been so indifferent to him. Such a proud and powerful woman. So beautiful and desirable. He had felt no regret. No remorse. No real desire, when his inability to resist the beautiy of women used to be his greatest weakness.  
There had never been such a void with Ivar. There, there was always some emotion. Most of them constantly tipping somewhere on the spectrum between anger and recognition. 

Had Lagertha loved him? That weird desire to see him in the afterlife... She had been very desperate in those last days. 

Why had he tried to explain himself to Ivar again and again? To douse the other's wrath? When it had backfired more often than not.

*

"Why do you not send me away?" Freydis asked. "You do not want me."

"What are you talking about?" Ivar replied irritated. "I do want you. You will be my queen. You are the only one it could possibly be. The only worthy one. Did I not tell you so?"

He did not want to hear all that. He needed time, time to let go. Ivar could never let anything go. How? When he'd had so little to begin with. Where would he have been now if he hadn't held onto everything with nail and tooth. And maybe that had been the problem. When had he ever done anything without nails and teeth? Every word barbed and cutting. He couldn't let himself be soft. He couldn't be a cripple and soft. He needed to be hard and sharp, so everyone would break their teeth on him.

*

There was a skirkmish with some minor Jarl.

"Let me fight for you." Heahmund said as Ivar and his men prepared for battle.

"No."

"Why?" Heahmund asked baffled. "We're both still here. You said it yourself. That's not going to change. Just let me fight for you."

"No. Never again."

*

This was going nowhere. Ivar needed to do what had always been his true ambition. He needed to return where he truly wanted to be. Kattegat had never been home. Any home Kattegat had ever been had died with his mother. Any traces of being welcome had vanished with Floki. 

Home was where an entire army had chosen him. Where he'd triumphed over everyone who'd doubted him and for the first time had known true power.

*

"We're going back to England, priest." Ivar informed him gleefully.

"What are you planning to do there, Ivar?" Heahmund asked apprehensively.

"Oh, you know the same as I always want to do. Kill some Christians. I was never interested in settlements."

"Aren't you afraid King Harald will attack in your absence?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will attack, that's why I'm leaving a large portion of my army behind."

"Is it really the right time? After all the losses through the war?"

"What is it, priest? You do not at all seem excited to return home."

*

Ivar didn't know any longer what he wanted. Whether he was going to let the priest watch the slaughter of his own people or whether he was just going to let him go.

He watched the man sitting on the other side of the boat, hands clasped in silent prayer, only his lips moving. Ivar could not get any answer there either. Ever since Uppsala they seemed closer again in some absurd way. And then at other times like there was truly nothing more to be said between them. Letting him go would be doing both of them a favor.

*

They touched ground in England. And how insane was it that after all his prayers to be allowed to return here, now he was only feeling dread.

*

Their route tourned inland and Heahmund did not know what Ivar planned. But more and more he recognized the direction, until there was no more denying where they were headed.

"No, Ivar." Heahmund said in horror.

"Yes. Yes. Yes." the other replied with dark satisfaction.

They both looked at the town of Sherborne in front of them.

*

"If this is your church, maybe there are more priests like you, huh? I won't need you any longer."

*

There they were. Warrior priests. Probably the ones who'd been with Heahmund at York. Those who'd lived. They fought well. Each of them a menace in itself. And it would have been nice to pick a new one and forget about Heahmund. Would have been nice to show the priest how replacable he was. But the simple truth was, he wasn't. They did not impress. They did not strike Ivar to his core like lightning. They did not make his breath hitch in his throat.

*

"Don't, Ivar. I'm begging you. Don't hurt these priests."

"What could I possibly do? What I did to the priest in York? Did you like it?

"Ivar, please."

And that almost pained please did it somehow. Made Ivar incapable of going through with the torture he'd planned for all these men. Not because he's suddenly feeling bad about it. But because he knew the priest would truly hate him then. And... that Ivar wasn't ready to deal with yet. But, hadn't that been the whole purpose of bringing the priest? To make him suffer and make him hate him. Because that the priest didn't do yet. Disturbingly enough. He'd been ready to betray Ivar. But he didn't hate him. Didn't even feel any true ill will towards him. And Ivar didn't know whether that gave him hope or whether it made him angry.

And Ivar did not lay the town to waste. Not in the way he could have. All he did was strip down the church to it's foundation. That majestic, old building. He destroyed it in a way he couldn't destroy his priest. He watched, and he had the priest watch, even after every piece of gold had been carried away or broken from the walls, as his men hacked the murals from the walls, breaking in the faces of the holy figurines worshipped there. They broke out the woodwork, blackened the walls with fire. And finally, Ivar himself went to the front and hacked the altar to pieces himself, until he was exhausted and sweating, his hands aching, only able to support himself on the broken structure in front of him. 

In the end all that was left was the stony carcass of the church only, the wooden banks untouched.

The priest stood unmoved till the end. Watching. The guards around him not even having to restrain him. 

As Ivar walked back to him, he saw his hands hanging loosely at either of his sides, but his fists were balled, knuckles white, blood dripping through the clenched fingers, even while his face was impassive.

"You don't have to try so hard." Ivar said with a smile walking past him.

*

And then, for once, the unexpected happened. For once Ivar hadn't anticipated every possible outcome. Had outsmarted himself again. Like he had in the woods against Lagertha. 

The troops he'd left at home had halved his own army. Harald on the other hand had come with the whole brunt of his army. They were outnumbered.

*

Heahmund's town had gotten in the fight between him and Ivar. Now it was going to get in the middle of the war between Ivar and Harald. And Heahmund didn't dare imagine the devastation.

*

The priest pushed past the guards.

"Now." he simply said urgently.

"Now what?" Ivar inquired with a polite smile.

"There's no more time for your games. I can help you."

"I don't need your help. And frankly I don't want it."

"Oh, you need it alright." Heahmund said angrily. "And I don't want Sherborne laid to waste by your unreasonable friend."

"What could you possibly do for me?" Ivar asked. "One more fighter won't make a difference."

"But maybe all the people of Sherborne will make a difference." Heahmund stated.

"You'd rather have me than Harald in your city?" Ivar asked.

"I've seen Harald and his men in battle before. They cherish violence more than I've ever seen. And you," Heamund looked him straight in the eye, with some strange mixture of disgust and respect. "You have proven more reasonable than I've given you credit for." He added, "And I'm thankful for that."

Oh, priest, Ivar thought, how must it pain you to have to thank the man who's taken your precious city and defiled your church.

"Let's see then if you can be of use to me." Ivar said, smiling.

*

And Heahmund did convince the townspeople to fight for Ivar. He spoke and they listened. Even the warrior priests who'd been kept in chains. 

Well, they did not fight for Ivar. They fought for Heahmund. But for once their goals were aligned like they'd never been before.

*

They smiled at each other across the battlements, unconcealed joy and relief, to have lived through the day. But not just that. Their plan had worked. They had been victorious, where there had been no chance of being so. With too little warriors, another few warrior priests and otherwise peasants that weren't trained in arms. They had held out. Kept Harald's men off their battlements. They had held the gate. Stopped the walls from being torn down. They were still under siege, but they were holding out. For now.

*

Ivar watched that night as Heahmund held a sermon in the church that Ivar's men had ransacked. How he spoke before the people of Sherborne, that Ivar since they'd fought together felt some kinship for, and gave them the holy communion, spoke to them of their victory, of endurance, gave them hope and steeled them for the battle to come. In the complete destruction of the church, stripped of all it's riches, in a city that was taken from the inside and beleaguered from the outside, he spoke with calm and deep resonance. Stood as tall and imposing as he ever had. It was the first time Ivar had ever seen him in such a priestly gown as the priest Ivar had killed at York had worn. And here as everywhere else Ivar saw the strength and power in him. Understood why the people flocked to him.

*

"Did you imagine we would fight together like this?" Ivar asked as they sat together with a cup of wine, even later in the night, planning what was to come. Their enemy suddenly having become the same.

"Maybe it was fated, huh?" Heahmund said with a small smirk. "Even though I think we both made use of our free will and made a sensible decision. I saw you in the church earlier," Heahmund changed the topic. "How did you like the sermon?"

"You wield a powerful word, priest. Yet you seem to enjoy the sword more."

Heahmund chose not to comment on that. "Was it the first sermon you saw?"

"Well, the first where I didn't kill the priest."

That got a look of irritation from Heahmund.

"Now, priest. Don't pretend if you came to one of our ceremonies you'd wait for us to finish before you slaughtered us all."

"True. Maybe we should both learn to respect. Even if we dissent."

"Why, priest. And that out of your mouth."

"Make no mistake, Ivar, I surely have no more respect for your religion than you have for mine. Which I imagine to be not any."

Ivar smirked. "Maybe we can overlook each other's religion."

"Yes, maybe we can."

*

Ivar sat on his bed in his room, looking out the window where he could see the torches burn in Harald's camp. He took another bite of his apple. So after all the priest had ended up fighting for him. Fighting together. For once he had not to fear any hidden agenda. Even though he'd surely try to escape the second the chance arose.

*

For a while it truly seemed like they could do it. Like together they could outsmart even these odds. Together still as good as before. Nothing had changed in that. Thoughts that seemed to naturally complete the other's.

But then Harald broke through the walls. Not with cunning. Not with superior stragegy. Just with sheer numbers.

And the city was falling. Heahmund knew it as the warriors stormed through the gates.

"We have to leave." Heahmund said. "If we want to fight another day."

Ivar looked equally startled and pale. "Not yet. I still have a plan."

"It's over." Heahmund insisted.

Ivar called for one of his men to prepare his chariot.

"Oh my God, Ivar!" Heahmund shook him. "Will you listen to reason?! You're not going out there!"

"I don't think you should touch me." Ivar said with a smile. "Ever."

Heahmund pulled his hands back as if burned. "Whatever plan you thought of, I have too. It won't work."

"Why are you suddenly so eager to abandon town, when you would fight to your death in York?"

"I was fighting for my king, not for walls and houses. I was fighting so he could retreat. I will fight so you can retreat."

"I won't retreat. My plan is good."

"Your plan is a Hail Mary! Harald may not be as smart as you, but he's fought alongside you many times. And he has so much more men than we have."

"Flee then, if you wish, coward."

"What is wrong with you, Ivar?! You used to be smart!"

"I don't need your ratification of my decisions, slave."

"Then go and die." Heahmund said bitterly.

*

It had ended that quickly. And, yes, he should have run. But he could not. Could not admit in that moment defeat. Would not listen to the priest. And now he would die alone. 

And never again would he have the chance to kiss the priest's lips. He was consoled by the fact that even if he died here, the priest would surely have managed to escape and would return with an army to avenge his town and destroy Harald. And Ivar would be in Valhalla laughing. When he met Lagertha there, he could tell her that he'd had the priest last.

*

Ivar snarled at him, even where he was lying on the ground, covered in blood and mudd. Heahmund almost expected him to snap for his hand with his teeth.

"You're not supposed to be here." Ivar said through dark, hate-filled eyes. Or was it hate? Maybe it was desperation. It was hard to tell with Ivar.

"And still I am here." Heahmund said, pulling Ivar out from under the remnants of his chariot. "I'm going to save you, Ivar."

"I don't need you to."

Instead of an answer Heahmund swirled to his feet, taking out an attacking viking with a clean sweep of his sword, before sinking down beside Ivar again and pulling him to his feet, Ivar's arm around his shoulder.

Their faces were too close, as Ivar hissed into his face. "Let go of me."

"No." Heahmund simply explained. He dragged Ivar on, one-handed, still fighting off attackers with the other hand. Then, "This is not working." He threw Ivar over his shoulder. "Try not to stab me while I carry you." he ordered sternly. "You want to live, don't you?"

*

They made their way over land and through the woods. Ivar's army was shattered. They were on their own. Over them the ever looming threat of being captured by Harald's soldiers. For he certainly hadn't wanted for Ivar to get away. Did he blame him after all for everything. His wife's death, his brother's death. Betraying him. When they all knew Harald had planned to betray Ivar from the beginning.

*

They could not go on. Heahmund realised. Both of them too exhausted to continue. He did not know how long they'd been in the woods. Two days? Three? Everything was a blurr of stiff limbs, vision almost blurred from fatigue. Even if they were not far enough away from Harald's troops yet, they needed to stop. Ivar's wounds were half-hazardly bandaged and needed to be cleaned properly. And Heahmund, Heahmund did not know for how much longer he could stay on his feet.

Ivar did not ask him, when he changed the direction and the wood cleared in front of them. He did not ask when Heahmund opened his hair, loosening all the braids and put his own wooden cruxifix around his neck.

Then he picked Ivar up again and walked towards the gate of the village.

*

As they sat there, with the food and drink the peasant family had given only too readily to the travelling priest and his injured comrade, Ivar realised one thing. He had no more command over Heahmund. There was no invisible thread around the priest's neck that was still in Ivar's hand.

"Why did you not tell them who I am?" Ivar asked. "You would have been free."

"I am free, Ivar." Heahmund replied. "But, I just saved your life. Just to have you killed by these villagers now?"

"Yes, you did save my life. Why?"

"You spared my life three times. It seems only right that I return the favor at least once."

"That was two times now." Ivar reminded him.

"Then you have another one still until you have to fear me again." Heahmund said with a small smile.

*

They continued their way through the woods.

"I don't want your gratitude. Not your debt either." Ivar said.

"Yes, well, Ivar." Heahmund replied, carrying him again. In his arms this time. Not thrown over his shoulder like a sack of hay. "We can't all have what we want. And right now, you need me."

"Why did you not let me die?" Ivar repeated the question he'd asked once before. And yes, it truly was madness to do the same over and over again and expect a different outcome. "You say you owe me a debt. But am I not still a threat to your beloved country?"

"Why did you not let me die?" Heahmund threw the question back at him.

"Because I love you as you well know." Ivar growled, face in a grimace. "But you do not love me, so don't even try to claim that."

"I wouldn't." Heahmund replied simply. "Still I do not want you to die. Not there, not like that."

"It would have been in battle."

"I would have been too soon."

*

They stopped at a stream. They were both exhausted and Heahmund needed to clean Ivar's wounds. The other stripped of his own, crawling into the small stream, pushing his whole head into the water, coming up with a deep breath. He shook himself, water flying in all directions from his still undone hair that was now plastered down his face and throat, tips nearly reaching his shoulders. He heaved himself onto a stone at the side of the stream bed.

"Get on with it then, priest." 

Heahmund unwrapped the clean cloth they'd been given by the family at the village and started cleaning the, thank God, not infected gashes.

Heahmund's eyes strayed over Ivar as he sat there, his sometimes and sometimes not king, sitting there, looking sad and proud. He'd never seen Ivar lose, he realised. He hadn't been there the last time it had happened. And Ivar had never lost that spectacularly. Heahmund didn't know what he had expected of Ivar now. But Ivar had fullfilled all of it. Standing as tall as he never could and still always had. And Heahmund realised Ivar had been right. Ivar would always be a threat. As long as he lived. A man who'd gotten back on his feet before when no one had expected it. Even when right now he was beaten and bruised. Alone. Except for Heahmund, who for once had the power over his life in his hand. He thought about what Ivar had seen back then, that had made him not kill him. And he thought maybe he was seeing the same thing right now.

He reached forward and took Ivar's hand, lifting it to his lips. A gesture that was unassuming in itself. Still he could not tell what had possessed him. A pledge of a vassal who was not a vassal to a king who was not a king right now. Even, though, if he was being true, Ivar would always be a king.

Ivar looked at him, head tilted, bemused expression on his face, looking with equal lack of understanding alternatingly at Heahmund and his hand.

It was madness and folly when Heahmund leaned forward, the distance not so far to cross, and kissed Ivar. The stone where Heahmund braced himself, was warm to the touch, from the sun, the strands of Ivar's hair between the tips of his fingers where beginning to dry, still sleek and slick like a beaver pelt.

Ivar's eyes were clear and blue like the water of the stream and the sky above them, when he pulled away. Heahmund liked to think of himself, that he did nothing without conscious decision. Right now for the first time in his life he could not fathom his own motives.

Ivar was still staring at him, pervasively and at the same time as lost as him.

They landed on the grass. Ivar's skin was smooth and warming again, despite the occasional droplets still not dried.

*

If Ivar hadn't still felt the pain of his wounds all through it, his best guess would have been that he'd dreamed the whole thing. Only the priest was never that gentle in his dreams. Because he didn't even dare wish for something like that in his dreams.

And now here he was. His body still tingling with the haze that had come over them like summer rain. 

One of the priest's hands still lingered on Ivar's face as if in afterthought. Then Heahmund caught himself and got up, fastening his clothes.

"We should be able to make another mile before nightfall." the priest said.

"It's you who'll have to carry me." Ivar only commented.

*

They did not talk about it. And it did not happen again.

*

"How are you going to get back, Ivar?"

"Some of my men will have been able to escape. We'll make it."

"Don't you think Harald will have already torched your ships and burned down your camp? That's what I'd have done."

"Yes, but Harald is neither you nor me." 

*

The priest stared at him fixedly. For long moments. Dark and unreadable.

Then he spoke. "I'll get you back to your camp, Ivar. I know these woods. And we're only two people. We'll hear them coming before they hear us."

"I do not doubt that, priest."

*

They saw the camp from afar. Their ships didn't look to be on fire and they were still flying Ivar's banners. It might have been a trap. But then, Harald wasn't that smart, at least Ivar hoped so. They left the hill top again. Maybe a few more hours, half a day and they would be there.

"Ivar, I'm not coming with you." the priest said.

Ivar hadn't expected he would. Had waited every day anew to wake up on his own. Still now, after such a long time, it hit him hard.

"You can make it from here on your own." Heahmund continued. "It will take you maybe a day. And I need that day."

"Whatever for, priest?" Ivar asked smiling steadfastly, knowing very well what the priest meant.

"So I have a headstart before your men come looking for me."

They were both smiling now.

"I wish you luck, Ivar."

"Same to you, priest. I'll see you in battle."

The priest's mouth twitched ruefully. "Hopefully not too soon." Then, "If we..." He paused. "If we never get to talk like this again... It has been my honor knowing you." And he bowed before Ivar as he'd done long ago. This time no mockery in the gesture.

And then the priest was gone. 

*

Ivar made it back to the shore and thankfully his men were not slaughtered, nor did Harald's army jump out of hiding the moment he entered the camp. Instead another surprise awaited him.

"Bjorn. Ubbe. Hvitserk. What are you doing here?"

"We got word of King Harald having taken all his ships and having sailed for Wessex. So we knew where he'd go."

"Why?"

"You're still our brother." Bjorn said. "You did not kill my mother. She died in battle, as she would have wanted to."

*

With the men his brothers brought, everything that's left of Lagertha's army and all those who Ivar had left behind to protect Kattegat against Harald, suddenly they were in the advantage again. Harald had gone into hiding after a crippling defeat by Ivar and his brothers. And Ivar took pleasure in burning down Harald's ships, preventing him from returning to Kattegat to seek retribution until he'd built new ones.

And now he could go back to doing what he'd come here for. Fighting Christians. He did not see his priest in the ensuing battles against Aethelwulf. It worried him. Made him wonder. Had the priest gotten back alive? Had he been injured? Did he not want to fight anymore? The most comforting answer Ivar could give himself was, probably he'd returned to Sherborne to pick up the pieces. And he could hardly ask Aethelwulf. Say, king, can we have a parlay, I'd like to inquire about the health of the priest I'd robbed you off? While it would be fun, it would put Heahmund in danger. And that wasn't something Ivar wanted to do. The priest had earned his freedom. The accounts were paid and Ivar would let go. If he could. 

A small smile spread over Ivar's face.

*

"You should ask for forgiveness, Heahmund." Aethelwulf said. "Maybe it can save you from the stake."

"I've done nothing wrong."

"We all know how you survived there."

"You're father did not kill the monk Athelstan who had killed other Christians. But my offense is so damnable?"

"Yes, my father spared his life and it was a mistake. He was a heretic. And I think you are too. Maybe we can at least save your soul before you die."

They both knew that was not true. That Aethelwulf was just grabbing for this opportunity to get rid of Heahmund, to throw him into the dirt as he hadn't been able before. He realised Aethelwulf had never been man enough to accept another's opinion beside his own. Not like Ivar who would laugh delightedly at Heahmund's suggestions and do just that. How had this boy, without the use of his legs, found that strength, that this grown man, this king had never had? It made Ivar stronger and it made him better. And it meant Aethelwulf would never be able to defeat him. It would not do anything for Heahmund. But the part of his soul that could not forgive and turn the other cheek, felt satisfaction at the thought that Aethelwulf only too soon would fall victim to his own hubris and shortsighteness. Beaten by a better man. That's what Ivar was. Not a good man. But a strong one. And more true than Heahmund could claim for himself or his people.

But for Heahmund there was no more help. He knew what awaited him. That there was no way back from an indictment. That the trial was mere perfunctory. The moment Aethelwulf had dared to utter that charge against Heahmund he'd already proven him guilty.

But Heahmund wouldn't make it that easy for him. Would not give him the satisfaction of confessing to secure himself a more humane death by beheading. No, Aethelwulf would have to burn him and then he'd have to live with his deed.


	4. He calls me the devil

Like a prayer that only needs a reason  
Like a hunter waiting for the season

I was there, but I was always leaving  
I've been living, but I was never breathing

I was hoping for an indication  
I was seeking higher elevation

The more I stray the less I fear  
And the more I reach the more I fade away  
The darkness right in front of me  
Oh it's calling out and I won't walk away

(Imagine Dragons - Rise up)

***

It's the survivors of Sherborne who speak against him at his trial, say how he's in cahoots with the northmen. And that, that was maybe the last blow. Heahmund thought he was broken maybe already then. 

*

Despite not thinking that it would happen, after days of torture Heahmund confessed. Confessed to having denounced the Lord. Claimed to have worshipped pagan idols.

*

He escaped. With barely more than his life, killing several men he'd fought alongside once upon a time, in the process. 

And he realised he had nowhere to go. Maybe God had not forsaken him but everyone else had.

*

Ivar didn't know what the ruckus was at the camp entrance. But when he arrived there, Ivar saw his priest. Broken and bruised, barely dragging himself on. There was a broken arrow shaft in his arm, another in one leg. His face was discolored and seared with cuts and abrasions. 

He heard the angry voices of the guards who refused to let him pass through. 

Ivar stepped beside them, regarding Heahmund with an expression that gave away nothing. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I have nowhere else to go."

And then the priest collapsed. Like all his strength had finally sapped out. Like all he'd been waiting for was to see Ivar. And now he felt save enough in his hands to let the fight slip out of him.

*

The injuries on the priest, as Ivar beheld him as the doctor tended to him, where manifold. Clearly torture. At some places it looked like he'd been burned with an iron. And Ivar felt anger. They'd had no right. No right. To touch what was Ivar's. If anyone were to burn and mark him it would have been Ivar. And even he had never done it. Because you could not own the priest. 

Heahmund looked drawn, even in unconsciousness. No relaxation coming over his face. Like the past weeks had been a constant battle. Like more things had been broken than just his body.

"What have you done, priest?" Ivar murmured, touching the unconscious man's cheek.

*

"Are you awake, priest?" Ivar asked, the next time he came to visit him. Face on eye level with the bed bound man, his breath gusting into his face, so close was he.

The other opened his eyes, looking for all the world like he was not sure either whether he was, and which state would have been preferable. He licked his parched and bitten lips and gave a small nod at Ivar, before he spoke with a voice that sounded like smoke and coals, "Ivar."

"You will live," Ivar said jovially. "As you probably imagined. You'll even keep that eye. Even though I have to admit it looks terrible."

"Will I?" Heahmund replied and he wasn't looking at Ivar any longer, he was not looking at anything any longer, stuck in time and place, looking at nothing at all. And once more Ivar wondered what had happened. What could have done this to his priest.

Heahmund did not look like he would tell. Was half delirious most of the time.

*

Five days later. Ivar entered Heahmund's tent briskly. Nodding at the priest who looked at him startled. But the priest was almost always startled whenever pulled from his dark reverie. Like he couldn't hear Ivar coming a mile away, any longer.

"So, I had an interesting conversation with an envoy of King Aethelwulf." Ivar started with a smirk. "He wants you back really bad. To burn you at the stake."

"What did you say?" Heahmund asked with a lopsided smile that hid only half-hazardly his tension and the actual terror at the prospect of going back, of being handed over to Aethelwulf. Like a piece of stray cattle. In this state where he couldn't even fight. Did he not know that Ivar would never do that to him? Would rather strike him down himself, at least with a sword in hand. 

The priest winced as he tried to sit up.

"Well, he made me a very good offer." Ivar shrugged. "And I have really no idea why you came to me. There is no allegiance between us after all." A glint of teeth.

"I see." It spoke for in what a bad state Heahmund was that he couldn't see right through Ivar's act. "I did not mean to impose on your hospitality. I know I have no right to it. It was a decision made..." He frowned. Jaw working. "I was not..."

Ivar interrupted him. "Give me one reason why you would deserve my protection."

Heahmund was quiet. Then, "It would anger Aethelwulf."

Ivar laughed. "Not good enough." It was not really fun playing with this hollowed-out husk of his priest, who seemed to have been broken enough for a lifetime. What was it that had actually done it, though? Betrayal as far as Ivar could tell. How ironic. "Tell me, priest. Do you still believe in your god?"

"God has not forsaken me." came the stubborn answer.

"Yes. Maybe. But why did he not save you?"

"That is not his job. He saves my soul. My mortal body does not matter."

"Alright then." Ivar shrugged. "Then I see no harm in returning you to your king."

A gasp, an actually strangled gasp, that he had not been able to control.

"Come on." Ivar said, nodding at Heahmund confidentially, smugly.

The priest sat silent, looking at him, uncomprehending.

"Heahmund," Ivar said almost gently. "Did you honestly believe you could get out of this without begging? Come on. Beg me. Beg me for your life."

And with a raw tortured voice that sounded entirely unnatural, with an urgency that dug under your nails and skin and made you feel his pain, the priest uttered, "Please, Ivar, don't let him have me. Kill me yourself, but don't send me back."

Ivar looked at him in marvel. "You think I'd kill you more mercifully?"

"Yes." came the instantaneous answer. No conditions. No modifications.

"You want me to show you mercy." Ivar mused. He whispered the words he'd heard the priest pray so often before. "And don't let me fall into my enemies hands. Are you praying to me, priest?" Heahmund looked at him confused. "Pray to me," Ivar repeated.

Heahmund froze. Met Ivar's eyes once more and shuttered down on himself. Resigning himself to his fate. Looking as if he could already feel the fire under his feet.

"You'd rather burn than worship false idols?" Ivar asked, truly surprised. Or maybe not. "You're god must be happy to have someone who loves him so much. Even though you confessed to just that, didn't you? Aethelwulf told me so. After only three days of torture."

Heahmund lowered his head, shame blooming on his face.

"Oh, it's alright." Ivar said, sitting down beside him, pulling the priest's head against his chest. "I will not return you to Aethelwulf." Aethelwulf had made him an unexpected gift with his stupidity. And while Ivar would have preferred the priest to come of his own choosing, he'd learned to be more realistic. And it had it's own merits to be all Heahmund had any longer. To know that in his darkest hour the priest had sought him out.

*

And that night, Heahmund cried. Ivar watched him cry bitter tears of disappointment, desperation and anger. And maybe relief. Realising that this part of his life was over, for better or worse.

"You don't belong anywhere any longer, do you?" Ivar asked gently as he sat on the cot, opposite of where the priest sat with his knees drawn up.

"I want to kill him." Heahmund said, choked between tears, but with burning conviction.

"And we will." Ivar patted him on the thigh. "You and me together."

*

"I think you deserve what happened to you." Ivar said with a twisted smile.

A smoky chuckle. A smile like a twisted grimace. Like a waxen mask melting. "I thought you would."

But the truth was Ivar didn't think so. What right had the Christians had? The priest had always been true to them. Had not wavered for just one second. All the loyalty Ivar had asked for, Heahmund had bestowed on this undeserving king.

*

Ivar lightly ran a finger over the splinted hand of the priest, in a hesitant, clumsy caress.

The priest suddenly turned his head. And Ivar was faced with penetrating, clear eyes.

He froze, refraining from jerking his hand away, as not to show weakness.

The priest's eyes, though, filled with something like heartbreak and gratitude. Ivar' saw his throat moving as he swallowed, before the priest turned his face away again to cover up his own weakness.

"You don't have to try so hard." Ivar softly repeated his words from Sherborne.

*

Ivar looked at Aethelwulf. "You hurt something that is very dear to me. So very dear you could not even imagine."

"I was right then about that damned heretic." Aethelwulf laughed. "I was right all along."

"So you weren't even sure before?" Ivar said disturbed. Then a laugh. "You are a stupid, stupid man."

Aethelwulf's jaw worked. "You called for this parlay. Now what are your terms?"

Ivar smiled broadly. "Oh, I don't want to make a deal. I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to kill you. And you wouldn't get me out of your beloved country if you offered me your daughter's hand in marriage."

"You will both burn in hell."

Ivar laughed. "Well, I guess we all have to burn somewhere."

*

Ivar sat beside Heahmund and started shaving him, the knife blade gliding over Heahmund's skin as it had done so often before. Their oldest dance.

"You spared me again." Heahmund spoke.

"It is a thing I do." Ivar replied, not stopping his task.

"I owe you everything."

"I don't want your debt anymore than I wanted it before."

"Would you take my respect instead?"

The knife stilled shortly.

"I think I will. And your blade once you are well again."

Ivar carefully moved the blade over a fresh scar, but still the priest flinched. Something he'd never done before. Ivar hadn't even known he was capable of doing that.

"If I could hurt you, I'd have done so before." Ivar said and his words came out more gentle than irritated.

"I know. Why do you imagine I came to you?"

"Because you knew I wouldn't turn you away."

"Because I hoped you wouldn't turn me away."

"You knew it. You collapsed the second you saw me."

"Because I trust you. Even if you don't trust me."

"I've never given you reason not to trust me."

"No, you haven't."

*

The priest was not the same, for all his body mending. Ivar felt like he'd been robbed of something. He had wanted to destroy many things in his life but he'd never wanted to mend something. Except maybe his own body when he had still been a child. Who was he kidding? He was still trying to do that today.

*

"I want to kill Aethelwulf." Heahmund said, staring into the fire, face twisted in a helpless paralysis of wrath that could not find direction. "But at the same time I cannot. I can not counter their sin with sinning of my own. I cannot go and slaughter my own people. Even if he is not my king any longer, he is still anointed by God."

"I honestly doubt that your god had anything to do with that." Ivar scoffed.

Heahmund snorted weakly. "Even so, I already slew enough of my own people to save my life. I cannot take more for something like revenge."

"If not for revenge then for what?"

"Only to protect. Only ever to protect."

"Maybe by killing Aethelwulf you protect other people from the same fate that befell you, huh?" Ivar offered.

*

But the priest remained stubborn. Even though for now he wouldn't have been able to fight anyway. But Ivar could see he wanted to. And the priest knew it too. And it seemed to eat him up inside.  
Ivar often caught him staring in the direction of the English camp. Helpless and searching. Like he could not imagine how he could have ended up here.

And Ivar continued leading his men against Aethelwulf. Took several more good strongholds. But the priest remained behind at camp. Broken-limbed and grey-skinned, looking as wretched as Ivar had often felt inside over the years.

*

A few weeks later Aethelwulf died. Of a bee sting. In pain and swollen beyond recognition.

"That your god might have had something to do with." Ivar said gleefully. "Sign enough for you?"

The next words of the priest took him by surprise. Uttered almost timidly. "Can we return to Kattegat?"

Ivar looked at the priest bemused. "Yes, we can." He gave a chuckle.

"Why are you laughing?"

"I was thinking that to me England is more home than Kattegat. And now to you it is the other way around. But don't be too sad, priest. Could you not truly be yourself at Kattegat?"

*

They reached Kattegat without interruptions. The weather being in their favor. His brothers stayed and that made Ivar unreasonably happy. Was Kattegat after all their home. Surely they did not stay for him. But still, his brothers were here and the priest was too. And so Ivar was more content than he'd been in a long time.

*

But of course not everything could just fall into place and be well. The priest was not well. And he did not become any better. No matter the outward signs of his ordeal having faded as much as they would. 

He was on his feet again. The broken bones in his fingers having healed. New scars on his body, that Ivar'd seen often enough when he chose to wash him himself. He looked almost as before. If not for the haunted hollowness in his eyes. There was no direction in his actions any longer, no purpose. That was what it did to a man to lose his meaning. He didn't know what he was fighting for any longer. When fighting had been all he'd ever done.

"Don't you want to fight, priest?" Ivar offered, almost desperately. "You need to get your strength back. I'm sure Bjorn would sparr with you."

"No, Ivar." came the toneless reply. "I don't want to fight."

*

In his exasperation Ivar punched him in the face. But the priest just let him. Not even swaying that much, still astounding control over his body, even after the long injury. If anyone had lost his footing it had been Ivar, holding onto the priest with both hands.

"If you were going to whither like this," Ivar said. "Why did you not let Aethelwulf kill you? At least you would have gone out like a man. I took you in because I thought you wanted to live."

That actually did make Heahmund angry. The first spark of emotion in a long time. Cold, hard words. "How would you know how I feel? What do you know about losing everything?" 

He did not really seem to expect an answer, eyes clouding over again, losing all interest in the conversation. Thoughts straying back to darkness and desolation.

Like trying to make fire in the woods in the deepest winter, Ivar thought. A small spark, going out immediately.

*

"I want to fuck you, priest." Ivar said. It was said to provoke at least some reaction other than the cold detachedness. The truth, though, nevertheless.

"You can. If that's what you want."

"Is it what you want?"

"I don't want anything anymore."

"Except revenge."

"Yes. Except revenge."

And then there's a burning heat in the priest's eyes again and he kisses Ivar after all. And he could taste that Heahmund regretted not having killed Aethelwulf himself.

Then he broke away and it was over.

*

"You touched me." Ivar said. "In the woods. Why did you do that?"

"I no longer know."

"That's very easy to say." Ivar pushed his index against Heahmund's forehead, pressing until the other had to move his head. "Come up with something better."

"What do you want to hear, Ivar?"

*

Ivar was helpless. Did not know how to help the priest. Did not know why he even wanted to help him. The priest had lost the one thing that had drawn Ivar to him. And still Ivar could not let go, did not lose interest. And thought with horror that that maybe was what love meant. Wanting a person even if that person wasn't themself anymore.

*

And Ivar did what had worked well the first time. Goaded one of his warriors into insulting Heahmund. Calling him pathetic. Weak. Not even a man anymore.

And a growl tore out of Heahmund, charging at the man and beating his knuckles bloody on his face, until finally, smiling, Ivar called some of his men to pull him off him before he killed him.

And Heahmund struggled away, looking more horrified with himself than freed in any way.

*

Heahmund did not know what to do. Did not know what should become of him. He was shunned by his own people, his own church and he'd never expected this to happen to him ever. He'd expected to fight for his faith till his death. He'd found peace and meaning in that. But now there was no more peace and meaning.

And then there was Ivar. Who'd saved him. Despite him not having deserved it. That this man would become so defining to his life. A man who never lied or cheated or compromised. At least not with Heahmund. 

And he thought he finally had an answer for the question he couldn't find one before.

*

"I touched you in the woods because I wanted you." Heahmund said.

"But not any longer." Ivar stated. "You are very contrary, my priest."

"But you are so straightforward?" came the suddenly angry reply. "You speak in riddles! You mock! You push away when you want to pull in!"

Ivar was almost shocked by the sudden intensity, when all the past weeks the priest had been like a single, slowly but steadily bleeding out wound. "But not with you." Ivar replied. "With you I am almost compulsively sincere."

*

They talked again after that. As they'd done in the beginning. When Ivar could still trust. And if this meant he started to trust again, he did not know. The priest had said he trusted him. And maybe that was true. It must be. And whether they should or they could, they had both trusted each other again and again over the past months. 

*

"I had a friend." Ivar told him. "My only friend. Like a father. He left me. He understood me when no one else did. And even he didn't love me enough to stay with me. His wife. His daughter. My father. They were his family. I wasn't enough."

"We cannot build our life on people loving us when they never may."

"Is that why you have your god? Because he will always love you?"

"Yes."

"I don't want love from someone who isn't there."

"No, you don't." Heahmund said softly. "Your brothers love you. You must surely agree now. Freydis loves you."

"Are you that vain, priest?" Ivar joked. "Do you need me to spell it out? Do you like it, to hear me say that it's your love I want?"

Heahmund gave a small, light laugh. "You are young. You will find someone else."

"You might not." Ivar gave to consider with a shrug. "Think about it, priest. Where would you ever find someone like me again?"

Heahmund snorted. "That is certainly true."

And for the first time Ivar did not take it as a slight against his deformed body, but knew that what made out what was between them was so much more about what could not be seen than anything else.

*

"Fight for me." Ivar said. "Can you not believe in me, priest? If you have no one else any longer."

"I'm trying to, Ivar. I'm trying to."

*

And a wide smile spread over Ivar's face and he felt a leaden weight drop from his shoulders, as he found the priest sparring with Bjorn.

Heahmund walked over to Ivar when he was done, flexing the fingers on his formerly broken hand.

"It's not going as smooth yet as it could." he stated off-handedly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened here.

"What made you change your mind?" Ivar asked.

"I decided not to die." Heahmund answered, one corner of his mouth curled in a smile, gaze strong again. And when had that happened? "I don't know. I'm beginning to think God wants me here."

"I'm not going to argue that." Ivar replied, still unable to contain his smile.

*

And the priest fought for him again.

When he came back from battle, he looked like something had sunken into place for him. Like it was only a first step on a long road, but he was starting to believe that it could be possible. Once more lifting his sword to press a kiss to it's hilt, eyes still rough and stormy. A contemplative expression on his face that slowly gave way to a relaxed smile.

*

And they sat together after the battle, in front of a fire, each a cup of ale.

"Would you like one of those?" Ivar asked him, handing him one of those golden bracelets.

"Why?" Heahmund asked surprised. 

"Because I want you to feel like you belong. Because you're not a slave. And maybe I just want to believe that you're not going to leave again."

"I'm not going to leave."

"Words are fickle."

"So they are."

"So, will you take it?"

"I think I will have to earn that first." Heahmund replied, closing his hand over Ivar's that was holding the ring.

*

The priest didn't get hurt again. And there was no more need for Ivar to sit at his bedside, doling out little touches that were as much for his own comfort as for the priest's. And still Ivar would do it sometimes. A hand on a shoulder. A squeeze of the thigh. Letting his hand rest on the priest's plated chest before he went into battle. Placing a hand in the man's neck. 

And the priest would smile knowingly. Not calling him out. What was there to call out? All cards were on the table. And if for the first time in his life Ivar was trying to court someone, so be it. There wasn't even that much intent behind it. Ivar just could not refrain from it.

*

It was during their newest campaign against Harald.

Heahmund was getting ready to go into battle. Once more checking the straps on his gauntlets. That's when it happened. The priest turned around to Ivar and kissed him. And then he laughed for a moment, before he was off again, falling into the lines of the other warriors.

And Ivar swore when he came back he would... He would... fuck him or beg him to be fucked or just seeth quietly. Ivar felt his ears go red, mouth gone dry. His fingers moved up to gingerly touch his lips. What the fuck? The priest would fucking pay for this... But for now all Ivar did was curse inwardly. And, oh yes, there was a battle happening in front of him that he should stay focused on.

*

And the priest did come back. And strode into Ivar's tent. And Ivar prepared to lunge at him or say something scathing, when the priest started taking off his armor. Soon after followed all his clothes. Piece by piece, dropping each item to the floor, calmly and matter-of-fact. Then he stood there in front of Ivar, perfect, beautiful and dangerous as he'd always been. Face still streaked with blood while the rest of his body was clean, protected by armor and cloth, only littered with the scars that Ivar'd come to know so well.

"I am yours, Ivar." Heahmund said.

*  
LATER

A singular warrior made his way across the battlefield. Standing tall. Sword still unsheathed. Speaking a few words here and there as he passed the bodies of the fallen, when delivering the deathstrike.

He made his way towards Ivar.

The priest was splattered in blood. Intricate patterns that war itself seemed to have painted across his face and armor. He sheethed his sword as he arrived at Ivar's side.

"Kiss me." Ivar smiled up at him demandingly, from where he was sitting.

The priest gave a small snort and leaned down. One grimy, dust and blood covered hand, that was warm from holding the sword for so long, cupping his face. And covered Ivar's mouth, lips parting just as Ivar's did, delving deep. 

"Say, priest. Do you think any of this would have happened if your people had taken you back?"

"No, Ivar. I don't think so."

"I like it when we're being honest with each other."

"Does it not bother you?" Heahmund asked.

"It did." Ivar truthfully replied. "But then I realised that you love me. And I don't care how that came to pass."

*

Two years later. Back in England.

 

"Will you fight for me?" Ivar asked.

"Do you promise not to kill any peasants and priests if they yield?"

"Oh, you think you can make demands now?"

"Yes."

Ivar rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine. The men won't like it." Like Ivar had ever cared about that. "How is it you suddenly will fight your own people?"

"You will take this town either way. I can at least make sure it's as quick and with as little bloodshed as possible."

"Very sensible. I can only agree."

*

They'd been back for maybe a month, when the envoy of the king arrived. They wanted to speak to Heahmund.

"Bishop Heahmund." the envoy addressed him. "King Alfred wishes to apologize in the name of his late father and wants you to fight for him again–"

"No."

"What?"

"No. I will not return. Tell that to your king. I have my own. And it is him I serve."

***

Come on baby let me get to know you  
Just another chance so I can show  
No, I won't let you down  
Cause I could be the one

(Be the one - Dua Lipa)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story 200% percent did not turn out as I thought it would. But I'm still pretty proud with the result.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who who read and commented!!! ^.^


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